A night at the museum

It’s Saturday around 9pm and I’m on the 6 train heading uptown. This feels wrong. I work uptown from Monday to Friday, and usually can’t wait to get back downtown. This is reverse migration but I’m being pulled by the promise of a unique night of art after hours at the Guggenheim.

It Takes Two is the theme for the evening, exploring why creative minds gravitate toward one another, and, what is the unique result of creating in pairs? It’s an all-star lineup with some of my favorites, including artist Matthew Barney, musicians Matmos, and photographers Inez and Vinoodh. In addition there’s the Peter Fischli David Weiss: How to Work Better exhibition open to explore.

So let’s talk about expectations. Firstly, I really don’t know what is going to happen, or how the evening will be structured, and that’s part of the appeal. We’ve been pondering our own ideas about overnight parties at the museum where I work, so part of tonight’s mission is for me, research.

Mistake number 1: I arrive in my favorite party dress.

The foyer is pretty much empty. No slammin’ DJ, no extensive bar, no dancefloor vibe. I’m directed to the theater downstairs, where the first speaker is giving a Powerpoint presentation and I quickly adjust my energy levels as I realize this is going to be a truly cerebral event, more formal than I’d imagined. The talks and panels were varied, and most of them I found inspiring, charming, interesting, even as the inevitable fatigue started to kick in. Which brings me to…

Mistake number 2: Not grabbing an extra large coffee on the way in.

Now that I’m up to speed with the vibe of the night, it dawns heavy that I won’t be drinking too much (or I’ll fall asleep, lose the concentration needed to follow the speakers) and that I have to stay alert until 4am, and there’s no coffee. Eek. Sure I’m pretty well rested, but attending what is essentially an overnight conference without caffeine is a daunting undertaking.

So, let’s do this. I find I need to regularly leave the theater to meet friends, grab a drink, and a break. You know, the social part of the night. I feel like I’m missing out on talks, but it can’t be avoided.

Strolling through the exhibition at 1am, it’s fully staffed with security guards who are extra zealous, even though it’s quiet. I can’t help but wonder how much it costs to keep the museum open on overtime and what the return is for the museum — it’s intangible, no doubt.

The sensuous curves of the Guggenheim are always a joy, and occasionally I’d spy a friend of mine, strolling, taking a photo, from on high, this building has a panopticon effect of sorts that I hadn’t considered before when it’s so busy during the day.

Surreal, is one word that comes to mind.

By 2:30am I’m wishing I could curl up with these two. So softie, much blanket.

On returning to the theater, I blink my way through a presentation that takes us up to 3am. It’s cold. The Matmos men show up looking dapper in their matching black suits. I glance their way, longingly, feeling guilty because I know I’m not going to make it through for their talk. My lids are heavy, my bones are chilled, and my friend is jumping in a cab that’s going my way. At 3:20am, we exit, with some residual FOMO, leaving the remaining 2o or so people to what could be, the best sessions of the evening.